YuuMare The High School Days!
by lord-of-all-kobuns
Summary: Ron and Desiree go on their first date. Murphy lives. Contains quite a few injokes from the PW series. Enjoy and review.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: This is my favorite pairing ever, even if it is canon. They're just so cute together. Do we know Desiree's maiden name? I couldn't find it, so I gave her one I liked the sound of. Also, try to spot all the in-jokes in this fic. It'll be fun!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own these characters. Oh, and avoid running with scissors and other pointy objects.

Ron DeLite was a boy who liked to read. Desiree Sinistra was a girl who liked to work on motorcycles. An unlikely couple if ever there was one. How did two incredibly different people end up together? Sit back and I'll tell you.

Ron was a bit odd. His eccentric appearance, combined with his love of Le Fantome d'Opera labeled him as weird. Desiree, by contrast, was a very popular girl. She had one true passion in life: motorcycles. She would take them apart, put them together, modify them, and ride. Secretly, she had another passion, but that would remain under lock-and-key for a very long time.

One day, Ron was late for class. He was running between campuses, trying to find the AP Literature classroom. He ran as fast as he could, tie flapping in the wind. He was late because, for the nine-thousandth time in his life, someone had yelled "Hey! A cinnabon with eyes!" This was a reference to Ron's red hair, which did sort of look like two cinnamon rolls on the side of his head, plus a bit of hair on the top. He threw a book at the offender, who kicked Ron in the stomach.

Anyway, he was running as fast as he could until he was interrupted by his running into something. That something gave a shriek and fell over.

"I'm sorry!" Ron said, staring at the girl he had just knocked down.

The girl stood up. It was Desiree.

"Oh, it's no problem," she replied, straightening her jacket out. "What were you dashing about for?"

"Oh, erm, I-I-I was…" Ron stammered.

"Pardon?" Desiree asked politely.

"Iwaslateforclass," Ron muttered.

Luckily, Desiree had the ability to understand Mutter, as her Physics teacher mumbled a lot.

"Why?" she asked.

"Someone called me a cinnabon with eyes andIthrewabookathimand waskickedinthestomach," Ron replied, speaking fast and looking at the ground.

Desiree looked genuinely concerned. She didn't like the idea of violence used on weaker kids. The truth was, she thought Ron was cute.

"Who?" she asked.

Ron was taken aback by Desiree's interest in his life.

"Just that Tigre kid," Ron replied.

Desiree looked angry. Furio Tigre was a bully. He liked to lie, cheat, and steal, and could take over for Eddie Guererro. He wasn't exactly the sharpest tack in the box, and as a result had been held back a number of years. He spent most of those years beating up younger kids, that is to say, everyone in the school.

The bell rang. Ron and Desiree jumped. They had missed a whole class period.

"Well, I'll see you later," Ron said, still staring at the ground, and he ran off to his next class.

Ron ran to his Geometry class, stopping to apologize to the AP Lit teacher. He plopped down in the back row and withdrew his notebook from his pack. He took a few tests and took a few notes. Class went by very slowly. Finally, the bell rang for lunch.

Ron went to the lunchroom and started to eat. Ron sat with one friend at lunch everyday. His name was Sal Manella, a fat boy who wanted to become a director.

"H3Y!" Sal called when he saw Ron. Sal always talked in a way no one could understand. That's why he had been held back a few years too.

"Hi, Sal," said Ron.

"Y0, d00d, why 4r3 j00 50 ?" Sal asked.

"What?" Ron asked, cradling his head in his hands. Talking to Sal always gave him a headache.

"WTF! Y0u'r3 lyke ," Sal replied.

"Oh, you mean I'm happy," Ron sighed. "I don't know, I'm just happy today."

He ate his lunch in silence. He never liked to talk to Sal for very long. It made him ill. When he went to throw his trash away, he turned around and found himself face to face with Desiree. He took a step back and collided with the dustbin.

"Ow!" he cried. "H-h-hi."

"Hello," said Desiree, smiling.

"Hay, j00 w4n7 pr0n 0f h3r?" Sal asked.

"Shut up!" Ron snapped, a little too loudly. People stared at him.

"OMG, j00 d0n7 half 2 B 50 r00d!" Sal grumbled, and left.

"So…" Desiree said. "You have weird friends."

"Yep," Ron sighed.

"I assume he wasn't talking about the seafood "prawn" just now."

"No, he was…talking…about…"

He mumbled the last word so softly that it was completely inaudible. Desiree giggled.

"What were you going to do after lunch?" Desiree asked.

"I was going to go to the library and then I was going to go to class," Ron replied. They walked through the hall, Ron continually staring at the ground. He had no chance with Desiree, he told himself. No chance at all. She was too popular. She wouldn't spring for him, a bookworm with weird hair. In spite of all the cinnamon roll comments, Ron liked his hair. Indeed, it looked good on him. He doubted anyone else in the world could pull off a hairstyle like his.

Desiree, noticing Ron's silence, asked what was wrong.

"Huh? N-n-n-n-n-nothing," Ron stuttered. This wasn't exactly true. He was as nervous as someone planning to storm Fort Knox. He adjusted his tie and looked up. Boys were the only ones in school required to wear uniforms. The reason behind this was unclear. They had to wear khaki dress trousers, button-down shirts, and ties.

"Are you sure?" Desiree asked. She noted Ron's discomfort and translated it into the language of High School Girls. Roughly translated, it meant "DearGodRonlikesmeThisisawesomeandthe happiestdayofmylife!" This was one translation. The other wasn't quite so rosy. Desiree was content to hope that Ronlikedherandthatthiswasawesome.

"Yes, I'm very well," Ron said. "Why are you walking with me?" He mumbled the last few words.

"Well," said Desiree. "Erm…I thought we could get to know each other better."

Normally, girls didn't say it straight out like that, but all tradition seemed to be flung out of the window when it came to Desiree.

Desiree and Ron strolled the halls, talking of this and that for a few more minutes until the bells rang.

"So," Ron said, still as nervous as hell. "Would you like to go outwithmesometime?" He said the last few words very fast.

"Boy would I!" Desiree said excitedly. This wasn't the typical response to a date, but Ron had driven everything practical out of her mind. "When?"

"Well," Ron said, a little alarmed by the sudden change in his luck. "I have work after school, but it is a Friday, so how about dinner at the food court at six?"

"OK!" said Desiree, as the halls filled up around them. "See you then!"

Through the last period, both Ron and Desiree walked in a daze. In Drama, Ron severely messed up his Shakespeare monologue because he was busy worrying about the date later that night. Instead of saying "For who must bear the whips and scorns of time", he said "For who must bear the wits and scones of mime." The Drama teacher was not amused.

Desiree was also having trouble concentrating. She was the only girl in her Automobile Repair class, and as the teacher lectured on and on about the oil filter, she entered a high-color daydream about her and Ron exploring a Paris opera house.

"Miss!" the teacher barked. Desiree, as the only "Miss" in the class, was jolted out of her daydream. It was at quite a good bit, too, where she and Ron had jumped from the rafters into Ron's secret lair.

"What did I just say?" the teacher asked.

"Beats me, Mr. Payne," Desiree said. "Weren't you listening either?"

The class snickered. Payne sighed and massaged his temples, thinking about retirement.

Ron had sobered up slightly as he went to work. He worked as a security-guard-in-training at KB Security. He stood in front of the main door, stopping people and taking their dangerous items. Normally he liked the job, because he could read a book at the same time, but even Gaston Leroux couldn't hold his attention this time. He put on his favorite CD, Andrew Lloyd Webber GOLD, but he still couldn't concentrate on anything.

Finally, his shift was done. He walked home and changed out of his security guard uniform. He walked to the food court and awited Desiree's arrival.

She walked through the door and sat at the table Ron was seated at.

First dates are always awkward, and Ron was already one of the most awkward people on Earth. He stared at the table for a few minutes before working up the courage to speak.

"Y-you look nice," he said to the table.

"Thank you," Desiree replied. "You do too."

They lapsed into silence, staring at various parts of the food court.

"Shall we get something to eat?" Ron asked.

"All right," Desiree replied. "What would you like?"

"W-w-w-well, I always have Taco Bell when I'm here," Ron stammered.

"Than Taco Bell is what it shall be," Desiree replied.

They walked to the front counter together. The two minutes they spent in line were some of the most painful minutes of Ron's life. He longed to grab Desiree, or to say something interesting, but he couldn't. Now he knew how a prisoner felt before his execution. Any time now, something would happen to mess up everything. Maybe he would trip, or Desiree would reveal that she had a mob boss called Bruto for a father, or the Taco Bell lady would mess up their orders so badly that they would create a new taco called the Explosion. Maybe, he thought with sudden terror, that he would throw up and a reporter would film it. He could imagine the news headlines now: Local Teen Loses His Lunch All Over the Love of His Life. It would be played and played. Ron had seen a television special once. It was called Dating Disasters.

The floor had suddenly become intensely interesting. Ron stared at it, as though trying to burn a hole through it. He walked up to the counter with Desiree.

"Hello," he said. "I would like a Cheesy Bean and Rice Burrito and a Chicken Crunchwrap Supreme with a medium drink." It was a miracle he hadn't passed out yet. He had passed butterflies in his stomach. He had pterodactyls. Very grumpy pterodactyls.

"I'll have the same," he heard Desiree say.

A few minutes of excruciatingly painful waiting later, they walked back to their table and began to eat. Ron was finally getting over his pterodactyls and started to ask Desiree about herself.

"So," he said, actually looking up from his food. "How long have you been interested in motorcycles?"

"Ever since I read my first Ghost Rider comic," Desiree replied.

"Ghost Rider?" Ron exclaimed. "I love Ghost Rider!"

Finally, they had something in common. Ron was a lot less nervous now as they debated about the movie. It was good, they said, though not really up to the standards of the comic.

"I mean," Desiree exclaimed, "they didn't even have the real Blackheart appear! All we got was that goofy Legion character!"

"Yes," Ron agreed. "That was annoying. I thought he'd mutate when he absorbed all those souls. That would have made me bounce up and down with glee. At least they used the Penance Stare a few times."

"It was almost overdone," Desiree replied. She was amazed at how well things were going. She had been almost nervous as Ron had been about this date. Surprisingly, this was her first date as well. She cast around for a topic that she knew Ron would be interested in. "Did you see the movie adaptation of The Phantom of the Opera?" she finally asked.

"YES," Ron nearly shouted. "Sorry, I mean, yes I did. Did you?"

Desiree nodded. "I liked it."

"It wasn't quite as good as the musical version," Ron said. "But it was pretty good. The sword fight was a nice addition, but on stage it was a fireball fight and even more exciting. I was right in the front row and…wow," he finished, taking a deep breath.

They ate the rest of their dinner and sat, talking. Ron was finally confident and didn't mumble or stutter once during the rest of the conversation.

Desiree did not have a mob boss father named Bruto. Her father's name was William, and was a businessman at a local firm.

Ron was amazed at how easy it suddenly was to talk to Desiree. It was like talking to Sal, without the headaches or nausea. He could talk to her forever.

----

Desiree was having problems. She had thoroughly enjoyed her first date up to this point. Her and Ron had talked about every subject under the sun, it seemed, and she had found it great. Right now, however, things were not great. Things were not great for one simple reason.

She needed a toilet, and she needed a toilet now.

She suddenly remembered Murphy's Law: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

Murphy must've written that after his first date, Desiree thought to herself. She tried to think about other things, things completely different from toilets. She thought of volcanoes. She thought of Altoids. She thought of glue. She sipped her drink, which didn't help.

"And then- What's wrong?" Ron asked, noticing the spasm of discomfort that had just crossed Desiree's face.

"Nothing," Desiree said quickly, still trying to concentrate on glue.

"It doesn't seem like nothing," Ron persisted.

"I said, it's nothing," Desiree replied, slowly.

They continued to talk. Well, Ron did, at least. All Desiree did was nod and say "Uh-huh," from time to time. Ron could be deskslamming the table and shouting "I LIKE PICKLES!" for all she knew. All her efforts at the moment were focused on not exploding. Suddenly, Ron stood up.

"Wha-?" Desiree looked surprised. "Where're you going?"

"Erm…" Ron muttered, staring at the ground once more and going a bit red. "I'm just going togotothebathroom. I'll see you in, erm, a bit."

He went off to the toilets on the other side of the food court. By now, Desiree felt as though she was a Hydrodeluxe Economy-sized water balloon tied to an H-bomb. It was not a nice feeling. She waited a few minutes. When it became clear that she wouldn't last another two seconds she suddenly stood up and raced to the girls toilets, passing Ron on the way.

"Desiree?" Ron said. "What the bloody-"

"HiRonsorrynotimetoexplain," said Desiree in a rush.

She burst into the bathroom like a hurricane, startling an old lady who had been washing her hands. Desiree checked all the stall door locks. Red…red…red…red…GREEN.

"Thank the Lord!" she cried. The old woman looked at her reproachfully, but didn't get to say anything before Desiree had rushed into the stall and locked the door.

She sat down, praising all the gods she could think of. She got up to thanking Quetzalcoatl before she stopped using the toilet. When she finished, she checked for toilet paper. The roll was empty. Let me say this again to show you the horror she felt at the time. THE ROLL WAS EMPTY.

"DAMN IT!" she shrieked at the ceiling.

"Whatever happened to 'Thank the Lord'?" the old lady asked from outside.

"Erm…Does anyone have any toilet paper?" Desiree asked. A few rolls rolled under the stall wall in response.

"Thanks," she sighed. She finally stood up, straightened herself out, and went to wash her hands. The old lady still hadn't left.

"Now, young lady," the old lady said with the air of someone about to give a long and boring lecture. "I say, what makes you shout praises to the Lord in a bathroom? Young whippersnappers today have no respect. I was talking to one the other day, and he was swingingabeaveraroundbythetail. IsaidWhatareyoudoingtothatbeaver?andhe repliedThisbeaveriscalledBidoofand…"

Desiree, who by that time had finished washing her hands, bid the old woman a hasty good-bye, and left.

----

Ron had finished his drink by the time Desiree had returned. She slipped into her seat and smoothed her skirt out as though nothing unusual had happened.

"What in Godot's name was that about?" Ron asked.

"What?" asked Desiree distractedly. "Oh, yes. I, erm, couldn't wait much longer."

Ron snickered, and started to laugh.

"Stop it! It's not funny!" Desiree shrieked.

Ron didn't "stop it". He continued to laugh until Desiree was the same shade as a flamingo.

"I'm sorry," Ron said, finally calming down. "But…Oh my God!"

He started to laugh again. Suddenly, the lady who had annoyed Desiree in the bathroom came up.

"You young curmudgeon!" she cried. "I haven't finished with you!"

Ron stopped laughing with difficulty and looked at the newcomer.

"Who're you?" he asked.

"I am the lovely Miss Oldbag," Oldbag replied.

"Clear off," Ron told her and turned back to Desiree, eager to continue talking.

"How RUDE!" Oldbag said, indignantly. She stormed away.

"I don't want anything else to ruin our date," Ron said, watching Oldbag retreat.

"Nor do I," Desiree replied. They stood up and headed to Baskin-Robbins to get a large chocolate chip milkshake. Unfortunately, they encountered problems there, too.

"What?" Desiree asked.

The Baskin-Robbins lady sighed. She hated explaining things twice.

"I said, you can't order one milkshake and two straws. We have a no-sharing policy."

"You mean that I can't have my date and I share a milkshake?" Ron asked, increduously.

"Well, you could," said the lady slowly, "but then we'd have to ask you to leave."

"That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard," said Ron. "Why can't I share my milkshake with Dessie?"

Desiree nearly swooned into Ron's arms.

He called me Dessie! She thought. If she died today, she would die happy.

"I'll get the manager," said the lady, a woman called Lana. She went into the back room and came out with an older man.

"What can I do for you two?" the manager, whose name was Damon, asked.

"We want to know why we can't share a milkshake," Ron replied.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ronno," said Damon. How he knew Ron's name was a mystery. "You'll have to take that up with the superintendent."

"Give us the damn superintendent, then!" Desiree said, angrily.

"Certainly, miss!" said Damon. "Oy! Diego!"

Diego, the superintendent, popped his head out of a side room.

"What?" he called.

"They want to ask about the sharing policy," Damon replied.

Diego walked up to the counter and got himself a triple-scoop of Dark Coffee flavored ice cream.

"Why can't we share a milkshake?" Ron asked.

"That's my rule," Diego replied between mouthfuls of ice cream. Ron bashed his head against the glass.

"Here, I'll void that policy just for you two," Diego said quickly, before Ron could hurt anything. "What flavor?"

----

Finally, Ron and Desiree sat down with their extra-large milkshake. They drank about half of it before Ron looked up.

"This has been the strangest day of my life," he said.

"Join the club," Desiree replied. "I've enjoyed it, though."

"So have I," Ron replied. They drank the rest of their milkshake and exited the food court.

"Tell me, Ronnie," Desiree said. Ron turned the color of Desiree's jacket. You probably could've cooked a pancake on his face.

"Y-yes?" Ron asked.

"Have you ever ridden in a motorcycle?" Desiree asked him.

"No, I normally go everywhere on foot," Ron replied. Desiree led him to her specially modified and tuned-up motorcycle.

"I really enjoyed tonight," Desiree said, and kissed Ron, passionately. Ron was startled and a bit afraid, but made no attempt to fight it as he returned the kiss.

"Get in the sidecar," Desiree said. Ron did so. "Let's…GO!"

The motorcycle gave a roar and shot off into the night. Nothing would spoil their relationship.

Not even Murphy.


End file.
